


Bacchanal

by moistdrippings



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #DrunkenKissesChallenge, Drunk Sex, M/M, Mentions of Murder and Cannibalism, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, more drunkenness than sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moistdrippings/pseuds/moistdrippings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Will celebrate a well-executed murder with whiskey, Dante, dancing, and kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bacchanal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hannibal Cre-Ate-Ive Drunken Kisses Challenge.
> 
> Thanks to my betas, who are awesome. <3

Celebrating had been Hannibal's suggestion, though he'd left it to Will to decide exactly how they would revel in the aftermath of their first premeditated murder together. Will chose a hearty stew — which Hannibal introduced as _blanquette de veau_ before Will asked for just one meal without an opening monologue — with their human trafficker's shoulder playing the part of the veal, and insisted on making dessert himself, just as he had insisted on gutting their victim. The clafoutis was simple to make, if slightly less gorgeous than what Hannibal might have created. They ate with the accompaniment of selections from an opera Will did not recognize, the dogs panting at them from just beyond the boundary of the dining room.

Their plates were clean and crickets had begun to chirp when Will said, "I'd love to see what you're like drunk," and Hannibal set aside his wine and broke out the whiskey.

Measuring his sobriety had also been Hannibal's suggestion, and so, in between regaling Will with stories about Alexander the Great's horse and attempting to teach him how to play their harpsichord properly, Will read him select lines from The Divine Comedy. When Hannibal could no longer continue on from the points Will left off at without stumbling over the words, he laughed quietly and said, "I think I may be drunk."

Will, who had set his drink aside without refilling it, couldn't help but smile at him. "I think you're right."

Hannibal was restless in his drunkenness, pacing the room as he talked and touching Will more openly than either of them were used to. He reached out a hand to Will, who sat in a plush, out-of-place armchair Hannibal had set into their living room specifically for him.

Will put his palm in Hannibal's and was pulled from his seat. He found himself face-to-face with Hannibal, whose breath smelled of whiskey through his open-mouthed grin, and said, "I've never seen you smile like this before. It's a little unsettling."

"I haven't been this happy in a long time," Hannibal confessed, and before Will could dissect that he had a hand on Will's shoulder and pulled him close. With their palms still clasped together, he stuck their arms out and said, "I should teach you to waltz."

"I'm a terrible dancer," Will said, but they were already moving. He looked down between them, trying to follow the easy, sure movements of Hannibal's feet.

"You have to have confidence if you're to lead."

"Do I have to lead?" Will asked.

"Indulge me," Hannibal said, and so Will did. The steps weren't particularly difficult, though Will fell out of rhythm on occasion. "Your footwork is better than your playing."

"I don't know why you expected me to know more than scales," Will said, looking down at his feet as Hannibal suddenly changed course, starting an entirely new set of steps. "Go easy on me."

"You owned a piano in Virginia."

"It came with the house." They were moving faster, and Will felt like they were gliding. "I feel like I should dip you."

Hannibal laughed again. "You can try."

Will laughed with him and didn't try, but his fingers tightened on Hannibal's waist. "I can't believe you wore a suit today."

"We're celebrating," Hannibal said. "I wouldn't celebrate this without dressing properly."

"You don't have to." Hannibal responded to that with an odd expression, and Will hurried to add, "Not when it's just me."

Hannibal's feet stopped, and Will nearly stumbled, catching himself against Hannibal's body. Hannibal's hand smoothed its way across his shirt until it rested at the back of his neck.

Will kept his grip on Hannibal's hand and waist. Anxiety rose in his throat as he wondered how the moment would break. "Hannibal?"

Hannibal's lips were wet and warm on his, saliva and whiskey leaving imprints of sensation behind. Will barely had the chance to register the kiss before Hannibal moved, untangling their hands so that he could tip Will's head to the side, pressing his lips to Will's cheek, his jaw, just under his ear. He breathed into Will's hair and said, "Would that I could eat you and still have you here with me."

Will felt lost at sea. Hannibal's affection was hardly surprising, and yet he had no idea how to react. "Is that what this is?"

Hannibal kissed his neck, his mouth open. "This is my bacchanal. Blood, music, wine, and you."

Will was tempted to say it was a very tame bacchanal — that the music had been over for an hour, the blood had been cleaned up for nearly a day, that they could both be far more drunk than they were, that even the dogs had lost interest in their festivities and fallen asleep. He didn't. "If you were anyone else, I'd put you to bed right now. Is it even possible to take advantage of you?"

"No," Hannibal lied. It vibrated against Will's collarbone. "If it was, I would tell you to do it anyway."

Will ducked his head, pressing his cheek to Hannibal's. Stubble caught at his beard, dragging as he turned and chased the echo of their kiss. Hannibal sighed into his mouth, pliant.

"Do what you want to me." The words passed directly into Will's mouth, so that they might have been his own. "Be Bacchus. Take what's yours."

Will turned Hannibal, pushed him into the armchair, and knelt in front of him. "Next time we'll do this properly. You can cook something red and bloody, and we'll be naked and soaking in wine. We can fuck to your favorite aria, if you want."

Hannibal's eyes gleamed. "Yes," he hissed, though that might have been in reaction to Will's hand on his cock.

He came on Will's face, licked Will's come from his palm like it was the sweetest ambrosia.

"But this," he said, low and sleepy, "is good too."


End file.
